Saturday, 21 March 2009

Too Drunk To Fuck (Chris).

I am hungover. This is my first weekend away this year and so it should be spent in a complete drunken haze with no sign of sobriety. I'm in Liverpool. It's very easy to remain drunk in Liverpool mainly because it's so cheap. I spent the day drinking in the sun yesterday. That's a lovely way to drink. In a lovely beer garden, sun on your face and surrounded by flowers and signs reading "DRUGS WILL NOT BE TOLERATED" everywhere. I would tolerate gang rape if I thought I could have a nice beer in the sun.

The first bar I went to was called Ye Cracke. I liked it the second I stepped inside. The first thing I saw was a man who I suspected had been standing at the bar nursing pints for decades. His skin looked sad, his posture defeated and his voice creaked of the past. He said to the barmaid who wasn't listening "I took her for a drink on tuesday...." My God, I thought, Craig David's really let himself go.

I was in Ye Cracke with my friends Chris and Edda, two genuinely lovely people who are very much in love with each other. They do have one fault, and I'm sure you know a couple just like this, they are both really good looking. They're kind of perfect looking specimens of man and woman. It's only right that they should be together because if they went out with other people that other person would constantly be saying to themselves "How the fuck did I end up in bed with Chris/Edda? I'm not good enough" and eventually would kill themselves by shoving a screwdriver repeatedly into their own brain, I imagine. It's very off putting being with two really good looking people because, and I think everyone in the world would agree with me, you don't really know which one you'd fuck first. I'm not gay but Chris is great and I'm sure fucking him would be a right laugh. We'd probably go for a drink afterwards. Or during. And Edda is a woman so that's probably one of the main reasons that I think sex with her would be good too. Of course, this is just a daydream. I wouldn't really have sex with either of them in real life because I've known them both for a long time and, although they haven't said it out loud, me having sex with them is something that they would hate. God, I'm drunk.

After Ye Cracke we ventured to a bar called Fly In The Loaf. I have little to know memory of this, so please feel free to write your own blog imagining what hilarious antics I got up to. OR if you actually know what I got up to then please let me know. Cheers.

Shockingly, I sobered up for the gig. It was good! I'm never very good at Comedy Central in Liverpool but the past two nights have been OK. On Thursday night most of the audience forgot to turn up or something because there was hardly anyone there and the people who turned up were either mute or angry. I liked it in a strange way though because I spent most of the gig making jokes about how the comedians on the bill feared laughter and the quiet audience were obviously supporting that. Good for them. Last night at the same venue was a lot livlier. Too lively by the end of the night with incoherent drunk men providing some very unhelpful DVD commentary for Martin Bigpig. The stupid cunts. Mind you, by the end of the gig I was back to being quite drunk myself.

It's shame I was drunk really because after the show I went for more drinks with Sarah Millican, Gary Delaney, Ros (who runs the gig) and Dave Williams. That all sounds lovely but I have next to no memory of the entire event. It was almost the same the night before when I went for a drink with Richard Herring. First of all I make him meet me in a bar that he got punched in the last time he was here and then I turn up drunk and can barely remember any of the boring things I must have said to him, making me a cunt. Still, good to see I'm ruining his career:

Then I meet up with Gary, Sarah, et al and I barely remember that either, making me a stupid cunt. Then, at the end of the night, I jump in a cab home leaving Ros to stand and wait on another cab on her own at 2am, making me a fucking evil stupid cunt. What a cock. And not in a good way. Still, I looked at my phone today and saw that I texted Sarah last night and challenged her to a live Blog-Off in Edinburgh. She rightly replied with "I don't know what that is". Me neither but when I find out I'm going to whup her ass at it. Any help is greatly appreciated.

It's after 1.30pm in Liverpool and so far I've been booze free. Can I keep it up? Why not come to Comedy Central tonight yourself to find out. Plus, I'm reading out about 6/7 of my blogs at the London Word Festival tomorrow afternoon. I have no idea where that gig is but would love you to come along as I am terrified of it. Then it's The Trap, the greatest sketch group EVER, at the Hen & Chickens at 7.30pm. Go to both of those gigs. Watch a hungover man cry while he tries to read out his own bile then go to see how really funny men can make you laugh properly. Your sunday is SORTED. Oh, and bring your Mum. It's her day, remember?

1 comment:

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